Page 110 of Broken Trust

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I’m pretty sure I just bruised a rib. Nothing to worry about.

Probably.

Jovie

The clinic door swings open hard enough to rattle the frame.

I look up from my notes and immediately drop my pen.

“Axle?”

Royce has one of Axle’s arms thrown over his shoulders, helping him limp through the doorway.

My stomach knots. He’s not bleeding. Not unconscious. But he looks badly hurt.

“I’m fine,” he grumbles. “Looks worse than it is.”

Royce snorts. “He’s not fine. He’s stubborn.”

Axle cuts his eyes to him. “I’m standing, aren’t I?”

“Barely,” Royce mutters before looking back to me. “Is Dr. Seth around?”

I shake my head. “He ran to grab lunch, but I can take a look. Come this way.”

They follow me behind the privacy wall, and Royce practically drops him on the exam table. Axle catches himself and settles onto the edge with a grunt.

Only then do I get a clear look at him. Dust coats his jeans. His flannel is stained with mud. His cowboy hat is missing. Sweat darkens the collar of his shirt. And despite all that, he somehow still looks dangerously handsome.

“What happened?” I ask.

Axle waves a dismissive hand. “Got tapped by a bull.”

Royce shakes his head. “A fucking tap,” he mutters. “He got stomped halfway across the damn arena.”

“He’s exaggerating.”

Royce looks at me. “He blacked out for a minute.”

Axle points at him. “I just got the wind knocked out of me.”

I cross my arms. “All right. You,” I say, my eyes on Royce, “out.”

He nods, then glances at his brother. “Good luck. I’ll save you a plate.”

“I don’t need luck,” Axle quips.

Royce snorts and heads toward the clinic door, whispering to me as he passes, “You do.”

Then he’s gone. The door closes behind him and settles over the room.

I turn back toward Axle.

He flashes that crooked grin at me. “Hi, Doc.”

I roll the metal stool to the end of the table and take a seat in front of him.

“Tell me what happened,” I ask.

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